The vessel really seemed to be pursuing the King Solomon; approaching it on one tack, it made every effort to come alongside, but was constantly baffled by the force of the waves which, like a stronger power, constantly tossed the two ships apart, and if they were within gunshot of each other at one moment, separated them the next by half a mile.
"Honest men pray to God at such times," cried Philip. "These do not even fear the gale. Ha! How that lightning blazed between the ships. The very fires of Heaven forbid approach."
The pirate suddenly furled her sails, and the next instant the crew of the King Solomon saw the large boat lowered. Twenty pirates sprang in and rowed toward the King Solomon.
The man-of-war had two hundred men and eighty guns; Trahern could not imagine what the object of these few people could be.
The waves tossed the boat to and fro but, spite of wind and water, the oarstrokes of the twenty men gradually brought it nearer. Then a gigantic figure stood erect, spite of the terrible tossing of the waves, and, raising a speaking trumpet to his lips, shouted in deep, ringing tones, "Captain Trahern, Robert Barthelemy hereby summons you to surrender at discretion the King Solomon and her crew."
The speaker was Skyrme.
Trahern, indignant at the audacity of the pirates, which bordered on insolence, ordered his men to fire on them. His gunners replied that the cannon were wet.
"That is a lie," shouted Trahern, "they are under cover. Take your weapons and crush these bold dogs."
"What?" shrieked Philip, "are these mortal men whom we can fight and kill? Did any one ever see a devil die? I'll fight with no fiends."